Assassin

The ache of subdued dreams
Disrupted my walks,
Nights spent amidst fears and tears
Drove me in paths of insanity,
There I lost the sense of life,
And gained the pleasure of torpidity.

A guide in the path was a silhouette
Figure of a man who seemed dominant,
Between the trivial drama,
He gave me a gun
And told me to shoot.

The head he asked for was colossal,
It carried the weight of torrid ideals,
My hands were dirtied before,
He swore he would make it clean.

The bullet from my gun never missed,
Target was found on the first shot,
The feeling of meaning was slowly felt,
Though the dirt in my hands remained
Even after.

The assassin inside me was free,
Free from pain, free from tears,
He was free, even from numbness,
He could feel the rope on my neck
As I choked!